


I Need to Know that I've Got You

by Kellyscams



Series: I'm On the Hunt [2]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Forgiveness, Guilt, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Stress Relief, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13902561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: Eleven years ago, Bucky Barnes left Steve Rogers standing in the middle of an airport. After meeting a strange young man named Eli, a strange incident on Christmas Eve let Bucky catch a glimpse of what his life would have been like if he made a different choice.Now that he's been reunited with the love of his life, Bucky's not exactly sure how to make things right again. Or if he even can. Catching up one night in the airport is one thing.Surely it'll take more than that.





	I Need to Know that I've Got You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostromanianpuppy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostromanianpuppy/gifts).



> So this is the mini-sequel to the fic I wrote, idk, two years ago? I _finally_ finished it. Dunno why it took so long, but if anyone is still interested in finding out what happens right after the main fic ends, here it is!

Bucky glances around the airport. He’s beginning to hate airports. Really. JFK in particular. He doesn’t want to come back here anymore. Not with Steve anyway. Not unless he and Steve are boarding a plane together. Which is not the case today. 

“Okay,” Steve say as he fixes the strap of his carry-on bag over his shoulder. It’s got his laptop in it which, Bucky knows, also has his sketchpad in it. “I gotta get going.”

A blade stabs against the inside of Bucky’s stomach. Steve says the words almost carefree. So nonchalantly. Like they’re saying so long when tomorrow’s just another day. Tomorrow’s _not_ just another day, though. They’re not going to see each other like they’ve done everyday for the past eleven days. They’re not going to talk for hours like they’ve done for the past eleven days. Not when Steve’s going to France. Then again, what’s eleven days against eleven years. 

“Yeah.” Bucky swallows the rock in his throat. “Okay. Um.”

“So, I can call you,” Steve offers. “In a few days.”

It doesn’t sound all that convincing. Not very much like a promise Steve intends to keep. For all Bucky knows, he has every intention of getting to Paris and never looking back. He’s every right to, of course. Eleven days is hardly enough to make up for eleven years. But still. Bucky can hope. 

“Yeah.” He nods. “If you want.”

That’s not what he means. It’s not what he wants to say at all even if, for some reason, those’re the words that come out. 

Please, Bucky wants to beg. Call me. Call me from the plane. Call me when you land. Call me when you get to your flat. Call me every hour. Just call me. Please.

Instead, some ridiculous thought that he should keep it just as nonchalant as Steve has Bucky acting like it’s no big deal if he calls or not once he’s there. 

“Okay then.” Steve’s jaw is stiff. He nods once. “It was nice seeing you, Bucky. I’ll, um...” His eyes drop. “I’ll try to give you a call.” 

He goes then. Heads to the security line without another word or look at Bucky. Just standing there for a second, Bucky watches as Steve gets closer and closer to the checkpoint. The glands in his throat are getting tighter and tighter, and yet Bucky turns to leave the airport. To go home while Steve goes to Paris and goes on with his life. 

“Shit,” Bucky mutters as he spins back around. “Shit, shit.”

What the hell is he thinking? He didn’t convince Steve to miss his flight eleven days ago just to have it all end like this. With him once again letting Steve get away. Bucky got a second chance and he’s hanging onto it with both hands. Tight. 

“Steve!” Bucky yells, bursting back into the airport. “Steve, wait!”

The line hasn’t moved all that much yet. Steve has barely gotten anywhere, but any farther is too much for Bucky. He turns when Bucky shouts for him again.

“Bucky, I gotta go.” There’s something of a smirk on his lips. More defined when Bucky takes hold of his hands. “You’ve kept me here eleven days, but I really have to--”

“Call me,” Bucky interrupts. “ _Please_ , call me.”

Steve’s eyes shine at the request, that smirk of his getting big enough that he bites down on it. 

“What?”

“Call me when you land. Or…” Bucky shakes his head. “When you get there? Or… something? I’m begging you to call me. Please. I mean, _yeah_ , if you want, but I want you to. I really, _really_ want you to.” 

“Oh yeah?” Steve reaches out and touches Bucky’s chin. “You think I should?”

Teasing. He’s teasing him. Bucky can tell by the curve to his mouth and that dimple in his cheek and the gleam in his eyes. 

“No,” Bucky whispers. “But, please do anyway.” 

The line is starting to move again, people behind Steve are getting impatient and grunting as they insist he move the few inches forward. Bucky, on the other side of the line, moves with him, unwilling to let go of Steve’s hands until he absolutely needs to. 

Steve smiles. “Okay, Bucky. I think I can do that.”

Relief runs through him. The sun breaking out within a dreary morning of darkened clouds. A smile lifts on Bucky’s mouth. And then he goes to kiss Steve. Just a warm act of affection that’s both familiar and new at the same time. 

But Steve pulls away before Bucky can even get close. Doesn’t let Bucky get his lips near him. 

To be honest, Bucky can’t even believe he leaned in like that. This Steve is not his husband. There is no Steve that’s his husband. That Steve -- the one from his glimpse or whatever that was -- is fading. 

It’s like a dream. One that Bucky knows was clear and vivid when he first woke up -- every bit and piece woven into his heart and soul like they were all a part of him. 

But with each passing day, those stitches have been tugged at bit by bit, never fully unraveling the whole thing, but making it harder and harder to see the picture. Bucky doubts he’ll ever forget it completely, but the clarity is slowly fogging over. Almost as though he’s watching through plate glass. 

Whether Bucky can remember or not, though, he knows one thing with absolute certainty. He’s in love with Steve. Head over heels, completely in love. Not a day has gone by in eleven years that he hasn’t been.

Steve, on the other hand, has no reason to know that. Or to even possibly share similar feelings. So it isn't any wonder that he's staring at Bucky the way he is now. 

“Bucky…” he mutters. “You can't just…”

“I know!” 

Bucky doesn’t mean to say it so loudly. Definitely doesn’t mean to make people start watching them for more reasons than just holding up the security line, though, by now people have taken to going around Steve. Those not interested in the show. Bucky’s getting good at airport performances.

 

Sighing, even if there might be the hint of a laugh in there, Steve shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. 

“Have I let you kiss me at _all_?”

Not once. And it's not that Bucky’s been _trying_ to get him to kiss him. Bucky just sometimes… leans in. Forgets that he shouldn’t. 

“No.” Bucky sighs. “Sorry. I just. I guess it's the airport. I got all senti--”

“Oh, don't you _dare_!”

The sudden edge in Steve's voice is startling. Mixed with the amused look on his face his face, though, and Bucky is completely baffled. 

“W-what?” Bucky glances around for some clue to his random scolding and comes up empty-handed. “What'd I do?”

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes. Arms crossed, he purses his lips like he’s trying to keep himself from grinning. 

“If you think your wounded puppy look is gonna magically work on me here, you're wrong. I'm immune, mister.”

Wounded puppy..? Oh. _Oh._ Oops. Well, Bucky hadn’t even meant to pull that one out. In fact, it usually _is_ unintentional. Doesn’t mean he can't play it up. 

Bucky highly doubts Steve is immune, no matter what he says.

“Oh, well, you know…” Bucky makes his eyes even bigger. “I just thought if you saw how pathetic I'd be without you...”

“Oh, you're pathetic all right,” Steve says when Bucky leans in again -- not with real intentions, but with a trembling lip. “Get lost, you jerk.” 

“ _Please,_ Steve?” Bucky tries again. Playfully coming closer with puckered lips. “Just _one_ kiss?”

As much as he'd love -- be thrilled, touched, _honored_ \-- if Steve allowed him the dizzying pleasure of the courtesy of sharing a kiss, Bucky isn't holding his breath. These eleven days alone have been more than he could've ever hoped for.

“Bucky Barnes.” Steve laughs. “I have to go.”

Bucky pouts at him, definitely bringing out his wounded puppy look full force. 

“I know.” He hangs his head. At least he got these few extra playful minutes. Didn't send Steve away with prideful nonchalance marring his second chance. “Thank you, Steve,” Bucky whispers. Touches Steve’s cheek and holds back a round of tears. “Thank you for staying. And giving me this chance.”

Steve doesn’t _exactly_ answer that. Instead, he sort of nuzzles against Bucky’s hand and squeezes his eye closed as he nods. Taking a deep breath he goes to break away. 

Right before he does, he takes hold of Bucky’s wrist, pulls him in as close as he can, and kisses his cheek.

Steve said nothing after that and had just left a stunned and brightly dazed Bucky standing there grinning ear to ear like a damn fool while he simply strolled through security to finally catch his flight to Paris. Eleven days late. 

Now, Bucky’s attempting to get work done for the first time since Christmas Eve. In the office anyway. 

Steve and him had spent the whole day and then some at the airport. Getting cup after cup of coffee and meal after meal. It was late into the next night when time caught up with them both. When Tony had called and called, and Bucky was sure he was fired.

Bucky hadn’t been sure if he shouldn’t answer or not. In fact, he’d been certain answering at all would send Steve packing. They’d already been through Bucky picking the job over him, and Bucky was sure if anything work related got in the way of their time together, there was no way Steve would want anything to do with him. Steve just smirked after Bucky’s phone went off a half a dozen times. 

“You can answer your phone, Bucky,” he said. “It’s gotta be important.” 

“Um.” Bucky swallowed hard. Stared at the screen with Tony’s name shining at him. “It… I mean, Tony’ll understand…”

“Tony _Stark_?” Steve exclaimed. “ _Answer_ the phone, Bucky! It’s okay!”

“I… uh… just…” He stood up and was already moving away from the table. “Just a few seconds, okay? I swear, I’ll be _right_ back.” 

Steve just shrugged him off and shooed him away and Bucky’s phone was ringing again. 

Funny enough, the first things out of Tony’s mouth were, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you in trouble?”

The questions kept coming and Bucky had to let out something of an amused chuckle.

“Tony, Tony!” he interrupted. “I’m fine! There was just… this thing I had to do. With an old friend.” There was a moment of silence on the other end. One where Bucky was sure meant that Tony was reevaluating ever having hired him. “Listen, Tony, I’m sorry. I can… I’ll… it might not be too late with Panther Inc., I can call T’Challa, we can set something up, I--”

“Whoa, whoa, Barnes, slow down. One thing at a time. We’ll talk about that in a second.” 

Turned out Tony -- though Lord knows he tried to place most of the blame on Pepper -- was mostly just worried about him when no one knew where he was. 

Once he was off the phone with Tony, Bucky hurried back over to where he’d left Steve only to find the table empty. His stomach flipped. Fell flat to his feet. Until he saw Steve just a few feet away with another two cups of coffee in his hands and his own phone propped up to his ear with his shoulder. 

When Steve spotted him, he smiled. _Smiled_. Held up that extra cup of coffee and Bucky came over to take them both from him so that Steve had his hands free to continue talking on the phone. 

“No, I understand that, Mr. Fury,” he’d been saying when Bucky approached. “I just wasn’t able to make that flight.” Bucky paused before going back to the table. “I… yes, sir, I still… I want the job, sir, most definitely. I just…When will I be able to get to Paris?” Steve glanced back at Bucky, their eyes locking with uncertainty. “Just… gimme a few days?”

As much as Bucky wanted Steve to say _no, never, I’ve rekindled with my long lost love and I’m staying here_ , he knew that just wasn’t gonna happen. He needed time to process everything. Steve wasn’t the one who had some crazy thing happen to him. He wasn’t the one who went to bed on Christmas Eve and woke Christmas morning with the odd sensation of the horrible loss of a family that was never really his. 

It wouldn’t be fair of Bucky to expect so much of Steve so quickly. Really, it took a ton of convincing just to get him to come back to his place since Steve’s home was technically a loft in Paris now. 

“You want me to go back to _your_ place?” he’d asked. Left eyebrow quirked and disbelief written all over his face. “You’re kidding, right?”

“N-no.” Bucky shook his head. “I mean, yes. Or… I’m not kidding, I mean. I’ve got the room. It’s not a problem.”

“It’s not really a _room_ thing, Bucky,” Steve said. Voice holding just an ounce of harshness to it. “It’s a _boundary_ thing.”

Bucky glanced down at his feet. “Oh. Um, yeah. Okay.”

“I’ll just get a room somewhere.”

“A _room_?” Bucky hadn’t meant to laugh, but, well, “Steve, it’s _Christmas_. Where the hell do you think you’re gonna get a room?”

Steve’s face darkened with a glare thrown right at Bucky and Bucky zipped it right away. Still, Bucky knew that he had a point, so it didn’t take all that long for Steve to see it as well. Well, if that didn’t include the twenty minutes it took for Steve browsing through his phone for hotels and coming up with all of them being booked. Just as stubborn as ever. 

Steve grunted and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. “Damn it. Sam’s not back from Philly yet…”

“Sam?” Bucky perked up. “Are you still friends with Sam?”

He’d been waiting for an opening like this. Wanted to ask about everyone. About Sam and Peggy and Clint and Natasha.

“Yes, Bucky,” Steve answered. “Not everyone cuts people off at the first sign of success.” 

Like a knife to the gut. Bucky didn’t know how to respond to that one, so he simply didn’t. It was so much easier dealing with CEO of multi-billion dollar corporations than it was trying to mend the broken heart of the man he’d left behind so many years ago. Then again, it wasn’t anything less than he deserved. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. Bucky picked his head up, unsure where the apology was coming from. “That wasn’t fair of me. This is just…” He waved between the two of them. “I’m not really sure what to think of this, Bucky. I mean, yesterday I was on my way to Paris and now you’re offering me a place to stay because _you_ , the guy I’ve spent the past eleven years _hating_ , convinced me to miss my flight.”

Hating. The word went through Bucky like a red-hot poker. He’s not quite sure why he’d expect anything less. Of course, Steve had spent all this time hating him. Of course, he’d have no problem saying it. It was just the truth. 

But Steve grunted. Said, “Not… not _hated_. I mean, yeah. I did. But not… all the time. I didn’t want to waste my time on-- I mean--”

“It’s okay, Steve,” Bucky interrupted, softly. “I deserve to hear it.” 

There was no argument made. In fact, Steve even shrugged in an almost agreeing way. 

“Come back to my place, Steve,” Bucky murmured. “Please. We don’t have to… to _do_ anything. I just…”

“I _know_ we don’t have to do anything.” Steve sighed and pinched between his eyes. “I guess I have no choice.” He looked back up at Bucky, a tiny spark in his eyes. “Thanks, Bucky.”

Eyes on his feet, Bucky grinned and quickly called for a car to come get them before Steve changed his mind. He wasn’t sure if this was going to be it. Maybe, when Steve took off to Paris, whenever that may be, he’d never see or hear from him again. 

The thought still sits uneasily in Bucky’s belly. Steve’s gone now and maybe he’ll call when he gets to Paris or maybe he won’t. Even if he does, Bucky really can’t blame Steve if he doesn’t want to have anything more to do with him than that. A phone call here and there. Nothing more. 

For all Bucky knows, Steve’ll meet someone there. Hell, he’s in _Paris_. The city of love. Talk about karma at its finest. 

The thought leaves a horrible ache right in the middle of his chest. A hole that he doesn’t think he’ll ever fill without Steve. 

“Hey, Boss?”

Bucky picks his chin out of his palm. Hadn’t even realized it was there until he lifted up. Seems he’s been daydreaming for quite a while.

“Uh, Darcy. Yeah?” He starts fiddling with some papers. Maybe it’ll make him look like he’s _actually_ working. “What is it?”

She’s watching him with a pair of amused eyes. Clearly not fooled. Not that it matters anyway since, in his horrible attempt at acting, he knocks his cup of coffee all over everything. Bucky rolls his eyes and sighs. 

“Great,” he mumbles as Darcy chuckles at his predicament and grabs him some towels for the mess. 

“I’ve got some messages for you,” she says. “From during your impromptu hiatus with your long lost lover.”

He flicks his gaze up to her. “Does _everyone_ know who I was with?”

Darcy laughs and tosses away some of the towels she’s been using to soak up the coffee.

“Oh, please,” she says. “Mr. Stark is a bigger gossip than an entire sewing circle. Who’d’ve guessed you’d meet up with Steve Rogers on Christmas Eve.”

“Oh my god.” Bucky buries his hand. “How many people did he--” A sudden realization hits him like a brick to the face and he quickly looks back at Darcy. She’s grinning like crazy at him. “Shit. He didn’t actually tell you, did he?”

“Nope.” Darcy pulls out the seat across from him. “But tell me all about it. Tell me _everything_. Spare me _no_ details!”

Bucky grumbles to himself and snatches the messages that Darcy really did have the kindness to bring to him. Mostly normal things. People to call back. Some he doesn’t give a damn about. Some that can call him back instead. 

He goes through them all before looking back at Darcy again. Who has so much patience that she hasn’t lost a fraction of her excited grin.

Bucky sighs. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Nothing to tell?” She rolls her eyes. “I find that hard to believe. After not seeing each other for _eleven_ years, you just spent _eleven_ days together. Now c’mon, Boss. Spill.” 

Leaning back in his chair, Bucky rubs a hand over his face and figures it might not be such a bad idea. No one else knows. Maybe it’ll be nice to… to get this out. To stop shutting everyone out. Pushing everyone he cares about away. He might be Darcy’s boss, but they long ago crossed the line from professional to… somewhat casual. They could be friends if Bucky only let it happen. 

So, he tells her. Everything. Well, not _everything_ , everything. He doesn’t tell her that he’s not really sure if the glimpse was a dream or not, but he does tell her about some crazy dream. He tells her about why Steve called and how Bucky found him at the airport. How he convinced him to stay by telling him all about the glimpse and that they spent almost two full days there just talking. How he offered Steve a place to stay and how one extra day turned into nine more. And how, just a little while ago, Steve finally got on a plane and went to Paris. 

“He said he’d call and I, _god_ , I hope he does,” Bucky says. “And that… that’s it.”

It’s quiet for a second. Then, “What?” Darcy exclaims. “What’d’you mean _that’s it_?”

Her outrage is so unexpected that Bucky isn’t even quite sure if she just heard the story that he told. He’s pretty sure it’s obvious. 

“I… he left. He went to--”

“No, no, I _got_ that.” She waves her hands out in front of her. “And you think that’s _it_? That’s the end of this epic love story?”

Bucky gives her one humorless chuckle. “Epic love story? Who said anything about that?”

“That’s what this _is_! Can’t you _see_ that?” Darcy shakes her head as though Bucky is a major disappointment to her. “What the hell are you sitting here for? Go _after_ him!”

He blinks once. Twice. Even a third time. It’s not that the thought hasn’t crossed his mind. He can do it of course. It wouldn’t even be a hassle. A few phone calls. Some chump change. He could be in Paris by morning the latest. 

Still.

“I can’t do that,” he says. Picks up the phone to start dialing for Reed Richards only to have Darcy hang it up on him. “Darcy!”

“Why not? Why aren’t you going after him?”

Bucky sighs. Tears sting his eyes. As much as he wants to go after him, he knows he can’t. 

“I broke his heart, Darcy,” he whispers. “I broke _him_.”

“Don’t give yourself that much credit,” Darcy says. “You may have broken his heart, but a person is a _lot_ more than that.” She gives him a soft smile. “Go after him, Boss. It’ll be so damn romantic.”

For a few seconds, the sun glows inside of Bucky. The thought of him following Steve to Paris. Showing up at his doorstep with flowers or chocolate or something not so stupidly cliche that his mind is just not providing at the moment. 

But then another thought crosses his mind. A thought that pulls his eyebrows together and makes him frown. 

“You don’t think that’s kinda…” He tilts his head to the side. “Stalker-ish?”

Darcy takes a moment to think on that. “In some cases, sure. I don’t think so in this one. Go after him.” 

Butterflies float through him. All throughout his body. What if… what if he did it? What if Steve welcomed him with open arms and they lived happily ever after? 

But what if… what if he hated it? What if Steve was so turned off by the idea of Bucky following him that he sent Bucky away and told him to never, ever contact him again?

The thought leaves Bucky queasy.

“No, I… I can’t, Darcy,” he says. “Steve needs his space. He pretty much told me that. And he deserves it. I can’t do that him. I just…” Bucky swallows the lead in his throat. “I’ll have to wait and… and just hope.”

When he takes another glimpse over at Darcy, she’s wearing a different kind of smirk. One Bucky’s never seen before. 

“What?” he asks. “What’s the look for?”

She chuckles. “I just never thought I’d see the day. You’re the Winter Soldier of Wall Street. I’ve seen you mow down the hot shots of corporate America like they’re blades of grass but the thought of messing it up with Steve Rogers has you shaking in your designer shoes. It’s freakin’ adorable.” 

Bucky scoffs. “Go back to work, Darcy.”

She gives him a lazy salute. “Whatever you say, Boss.” Darcy is by the door when she stops and looks back in. “Hey, Boss?”

“Yes, Darcy?”

“Try not to stress over it. You’re a great catch. This is all gonna work out, I’m tellin’ ya.”

Despite himself, Bucky grins. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve got a sick sense about these things.”

“You mean a sixth sense?”

Darcy shrugs on her way out, like either of the words fit the phrase she’s going for. 

Whether Darcy has a sick sense or a sixth sense, it doesn’t stop Bucky from pacing back and forth all night long waiting for Steve to call. 

He knows that his plane landed, so Steve’s safety is accounted for. Well, unless something crazy happened _after_ the plane landed. A runaway luggage cart or a car accident. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Bucky mumbles. “Get a grip, Barnes.” 

He’s being totally ridiculous. Steve never said he’d call the second he landed. He didn’t even say he’d call when he got to his new place. He just said that he’d call. 

And, okay, now that it’s nine o’clock here in New York that means it’s two in the morning in Paris. Sure, there’s jetlag and all, but Bucky has no idea what Steve had to do when he first got there. For all he knows he had business to take care of. 

After all, Bucky kept him from doing things he needed to do. Actually, he’s kept him from doing a lot over these past eleven years. 

Sighing again, Bucky picks up his phone to check it. Doesn’t know what he expects really. Just like the last time he picked it up, there’s no change. The only thing there is a few email notification. So, okay, that’s something. Work related. It can take his mind off of waiting for Steve’s call. 

By some chance of a miracle, Bucky did manage to salvage the deal with Panther Inc. It wasn’t as lucrative as it could have been had he gone to Switzerland on Christmas afternoon and spoken to T’Challa King himself, but Bucky still worked his charm and magic a few days later. With the all the fuss going on Christmas day and the competition getting a bit of an upper hand, Bucky wasn’t able to play hardball. Not the way he normally would have. 

Still, he got it done. Made a deal that made his bosses happy and the new company happy, and Bucky would have sworn he sighed his life away when he was through. 

“You okay?” Steve asked. “You look ready to pass out.”

They were still sitting in the back of the town car Bucky had called to bring them to his place. Tony had texted him. Bruce had texted him. Rhodey and Pepper had texted him. T’Challa King was still willing to talk. Right then and there. Before his family was up and they went out for the day. 

By some stroke of luck, Bucky’s laptop and carry-on hadn’t been stolen from when he left it earlier to try to catch Steve. They told him a young man named Eli had handed it over. Bucky… just thanked them. And he was able to work on the deal as they drove. 

Bucky closed the laptop. “I can’t believe I pulled that off.” 

“You _were_ named Forbes’ Man of the Year,” he said. “Had to be for a reason.” 

A smile twitched on Bucky’s lips. He tried to keep it in, but it was kind of hard when Steve said that. 

“You knew that?”

Cheeks turning pink, Steve ducked his head down. “Kinda hard to miss. It was everywhere.” 

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice. Bucky couldn’t blame him, really. The guy who had dumped him in favor of a career was showing up as a huge success and still climbing. If it was reverse, Bucky probably would’ve torn up every picture he ever found of him. Probably would have even had the front cover his Forbes edition pinned up to a dart board. 

“Yeah.” Bucky scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Steve shrugged and shifted. Pulled his bag closer to his chest. “It was a good thing.” 

A good thing. Bucky thought so at the time. He still thought so, only with some slight -- or major -- differences. That good thing allowed him a place to bring Steve that made him gape at the doorway. 

Eyes saucer wide, Steve just stood there as he took the place in while Bucky took the small bag he had from him. Bucky had promised him he’d already called ahead to _his people_ at the airport and they assured him they’d be tracking Steve’s luggage down before he ever set foot in Paris. 

“Um.” Bucky waved him in. “Come on in. Make yourself comfortable.”

Lights overhead came on automatically as they walked in, the heated floors warming and adjusting to Bucky’s preferences.

“This is where you live?” Steve asked as he ran his hand over the marble counters of Bucky’s kitchen.

Bucky looked around. He’d never given much thought to anyone being put _off_ by the surroundings he’d come so accustomed to, even if he himself found his place to be cold and empty when he woke up alone in it two days earlier. A few days earlier, he’d been in Steve’s place. It was a nice place. Nicer than most. But even with all of Steve’s nicer things, Bucky’s place suddenly looked… pretentious. 

“Y-yeah.” He took it all in as though seeing it for the first time. The state of the art appliances. The designer hardwood floors. The automatic blinds. “I guess it’s a bit… ostentatious, huh?” 

For a second, Bucky was sure Steve was going to agree. In fact, he was sure he _did_ agree. But instead of outright _agreeing_ , Steve shrugged and told him he’d worked hard for all his money and success. 

“No reason not to spend that money on _something_ , right?”

While Steve wasn’t wrong, Bucky looks around his huge penthouse apartment and wonders now if maybe it’s a good time to think about downsizing. Maybe that’ll be a good way to keep his mind off of the fact that Steve still hasn’t called. 

He starts looking through real estate sites for places that are smaller but still nice. It doesn’t have to be so damn showy. Nothing really catches his eye though, and after more than an hour, Bucky realizes that he’s not really looking anyway. 

Phone in his hand, he turns it over a few times and wonders if it’ll be okay if _he_ calls Steve. Maybe just a text. Just a quick sentence to let him know he’s on his mind? 

“No, no.” Bucky shakes his head and puts the phone back down. “He wants space. You give it to him.” He glances around. The only things that look back are his way too expensive things. “Great, Buck, now you’re talking to yourself. That’s a wonderful sign.” 

Maybe a shower will help. He hops up. Yes, a shower. A shower to take up some time and soothe his clenched up muscles. Hopefully, when he gets back his phone will have something for him. 

Of course, Bucky finds it hard to take his time in the shower. In fact, he needs to remind himself to slow down a few times so he doesn’t rush. Bucky even considers trying to rub one out, but figures nothing’s gonna happen in his current state of mind and forgoes any attempt. 

The shower eats away about thirty minutes of his time and puts Steve at almost three in the morning and he _still_ hasn’t called. Bucky knows he’s being ridiculous. He knows it, he really does, but he still snatches up his phone and types a text he knows, knows, _knows_ he’s gonna regret and hits send. 

**Bucky: He hasn’t called**

He’s pacing back and forth, phone in his hand when it vibrates a few minutes later. 

**Darcy Lewis: What?**

Bucky rolls his eyes. Completely unfair of him, of course. It’s not Darcy’s fault she doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Not her fault he’s texting her at ten o’clock at night. He doubts it, but for all he knows, he woke her up. 

**Bucky: Steve. He said he’d call and he hasn’t called.**

**Darcy: omg. This phone is supposed to be for emergencies only.**

**Bucky: this IS an emergency! Why hasn’t he called?**

**Darcy: you are such a child, Boss. idk maybe bc you made him wait eleven years and he thinks YOU should wait a little more than less than a day.**

Sighing, Bucky throws himself back onto his couch and would give anything to have Steve sitting next to him again. To relive these past few days of laughter and chatting when they didn’t fall into a round of awkward silence. It happened from time to time -- an unavoidable wall that had eleven years to build up between them that was going to take a long time to take down. That’s if they’d ever be able to fully take it down. 

**Bucky: But i wanna talk to him NOW**

**Darcy: well thems the breaks. you shouldn’t’ve broken his heart.**

**Bucky: you’re fired.**

**Darcy: No I’m not. He’ll call when he’s ready.**

Bucky grins at the last text. Not completely relieved, but at least temporarily not as anxious. 

**Bucky: Thanks, Darcy.**

**Darcy: No probs, Boss.**

Bucky ends up asleep right there on the couch with the phone still in his hand. 

**______________**

When Steve doesn’t call the next day either, Bucky begins to wonder if anger and resentment have started to replace whatever bit of excitement rekindling even some sort of friendship with him Steve had. It’s silly and juvenile, but he’s getting worried that Steve’s already struck it lucky with some suave French guy. Or woman. And they’re gonna fall in love and of course, that other person won’t let Steve go cause who would be stupid enough to let _Steve Rogers_ go.

Bucky scoffs at himself when that thought crosses his mind. 

_Me_ , he thinks. _I was stupid enough to let him go._

Bucky sighs over his desk and starts up his Newton’s cradle, watching the little silver balls on both ends move back and forth. He tries to keep in mind what Darcy told him. Steve waited for him. Bucky can most definitely wait in return. 

Besides, he’s still _Steve_. Even if he _does_ want to end… whatever this is with Bucky, he’ll at least let Bucky know. 

They had a good time being together again, that much Bucky knows for sure. He knows he did without a doubt, and he knows Steve did at least a little because Steve told him so that very first night he stayed at Bucky’s. 

While Bucky wanted to keep Steve close by, he figured offering him the guest room closest to his would probably be pushing it. Instead, he took him to the next closest.

“So, uh, help yourself to anything,” Bucky said. “There’s a bathroom right through that door and that one’s a closet if you wanna put your stuff in there and there’s towels and stuff in _that_ closet.” He turns and points down the hall. “Oh, and help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” Bucky turns again to point back into the bedroom. “This TV it, uh… here, I’ll…”

“I can work a TV, Bucky.” Steve chuckled. “I’m sure I can handle it.” 

Cheeks flushing, Bucky scratched the back of his head and snickered nervously. Shifted his weight from foot to foot. 

“Yeah. Um. So…”

“Thanks for the bed.” Steve tossed his carry-on onto it. “This, uh, this has been kinda nice.”

Kinda nice. Okay. That was a step up from where he started at the airport. Bucky could work with kinda nice. He could work a kinda nice into something more, he was sure of it. 

“So, um, yeah.” Steve cleared his throat and Bucky realized he was just standing there in the doorway while Steve was watching him by the bedside. “Thanks again.” 

Bucky would’ve given anything for a chance to slap his palm into his forehead at his own awkwardness. He wanted so badly to go over there and give Steve a big hug. Just wrap him up in his arms to say goodnight. Maybe even to fall into bed with him. But Bucky knew that was completely out of the question. So he just nodded and took a step backward, knocking a shoulder into the doorframe as he did. 

“S-sorry. Right.” He stumbled a little more as he backed out of the room. “You probably wanna get some sleep.” 

“Well, yeah,” Steve said. A crooked smirk twitched up on his lips. “I _did_ just spend almost two days at an airport instead of going to Paris.” 

“Yeeeah.” Bucky bit down on his lip. “This mattress’ll be a lot better on your back than the seats there. You should sleep really--”

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

Bucky snapped his mouth shut. “Right. Uh. Night, Steve.” 

Though Bucky heard the shower turn on just a little while later, after that, he didn’t hear Steve for the rest of the night. All Bucky could imagine was Steve face planting into the pillows and passing right out. 

In the morning, Bucky was up before his alarm would normally even wake him. At first, he woke with a smile. Steve had stayed the night. Somehow, against all odds, Bucky had convinced him not to get on that plane to Paris and stay with him instead. He had no idea how much time he had with him, but, damn it, he was gonna make that time count. 

Then, with a horribly painful twist to his gut, Bucky shot up straight in his bed. Cold washed over him. What if Steve had left? What if, in the middle of the night, he thought about the past and decided Bucky just wasn’t worth giving a second chance? 

A hard lump got stuck in his throat as he flung the blankets off and tried not to run down the hall. Bucky had to clap a hand over his mouth to smother a tearful laugh when he found the guest bedroom’s door still closed and the front door was still locked from the inside. 

When Bucky found himself much too anxious to even attempt to fall back to sleep, he thought maybe it’d be a good idea to make some breakfast. A nice surprise for Steve when he got up.

First thing he did, of course, was make some coffee. Funny enough, when Bucky took down two of his mugs and put them on the counter, they didn’t feel right. Something was missing. Neither of them had silly, tacky pictures or jokes on them. They weren’t chipped or worn. They weren’t an anniversary or birthday and Christmas gift. Bucky looked at them and couldn’t even remember a damn thing about them, but knew they probably cost him a lot of money. 

Shaking his head, Bucky shoved the mugs from his mind -- he could do nothing about the past, all he could do now was hope for a future -- and concentrate on breakfast. Bucky considered calling down and ordering food. The lot. Just two of everything since he had no idea what Steve would want. Bucky even had the phone in his hand when he thought of something better. 

“Can I help you, Mr. Barnes?”

That was Radley at the front desk. 

“Uh, yeah.” Bucky needed a second to get his thoughts in order. “Can you send me up some pancake… mix?”

“Mix, sir?” Radley questioned. “Are you sure you don’t want the kitchen to just send some--”

“No, no. Just the mix.” 

For pancakes. His pancakes. He could do that, he was sure of it. Actually. Bucky pulled the refrigerator door open. Milk, check. Eggs, check.

“Wait, actually, can you send some lemon juice with that? And… maple syrup?”

He didn’t even need to bother checking for that one. Bucky knew already he wasn’t quaint enough to be stocked with things as simple as maple syrup. If that was something he’d have with a meal, it’d be sent up with one he ordered. 

But, that day, he ordered his mix and lemon juice and it was hand delivered within minutes. Right up to his door. 

Bucky got straight to cooking. He might’ve thought to wait since he had no idea if Steve planned on sleeping another hour or even two or three. But if Steve got up wanting to leave right away, maybe Bucky would be able to sway him into staying just a little longer with the promise of an already made breakfast. Which, make, perhaps that was just a _tad_ bit manipulative, but Bucky would do anything to get Steve to stay. 

When Steve got up, walking into the kitchen just as Bucky was mixing up the batter, he hadn’t bothered getting dressed or anything. Bucky hoped that was a good sign. Especially since Steve’s hair was sticking up all over the place and he was still all sleepy-eyed. He didn’t look to be in any rush to get out of there at least. 

“Hey,” Bucky greeted. “Um. Morning.”

Steve smacked his lips and glanced around the kitchen like he was confused about something. 

“Good morning. You’re cooking breakfast?”

“Oh.” Bucky looked at the bowl he was mixing up. “Pancakes. Is that okay? We don’t have to have pancakes. I can order something. That’s not a problem. Or we can go out! Do you wanna go out?”

Steve’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Pancakes are fine.”

“Okay. Okay, then… I’ve got coffee already made, so you can help yourself to that if you want.”

“Actually,” Steve said with a little curve turned up on his lips. “Do you have any tea?”

Oh shit. Shit, Bucky didn’t even consider that. Steve always just drank coffee. In the past. In his dream or glimpse or whatever. Even at the airport. 

“I…” Bucky’s throat tightened. “I don’t know. Lemme see.” 

Dropping the bowl down on the counter, Bucky began to search through his cabinets, doomed to failure. 

“No, I don’t, but I can order some,” he said as he turned back around. “Any type you want. Do you--”

Bucky stopped when that smirk of Steve’s became more defined. His eyebrows picked up even more as he sat down at the table and pointed.

“ _Oh_ ,” he cooed with a satisfied laugh. “I think I’m really likin’ this Bucky.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Coffee is fine. Please.” 

Steve certainly enjoys Bucky like this, that’s for sure. Not that Bucky minds in the least, no, not at all. Bucky will be his beck and call boy for the next eleven years if that what it takes to make up for the past eleven and keep him in his life. He highly doubts that’s the price Steve will set, but Bucky will still pay it. It’s not like Bucky didn’t laugh and tease back anyway. 

Right now, after a full week of silence, he’ll be thrilled with a simple phone call. Hell, Bucky will settle for a text. 

“You still with us, Soldier Boy?”

Bucky’s head snaps up. In front of him sits Tony and Pepper. Bruce is just on the other side of the conference table with another senior partner, Janet, and the rest of the junior executives look at Bucky like they’re all waiting for something. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, even though he’s completely zoned out and has no idea what they were talking about. “Say that last part again.” 

They all exchange puzzled glances as though Bucky having one moment of uncertainty in his entire career is something to gossip about. It really can’t be _that_ big of a deal. 

“Um, Bucky,” Pepper says. “ _You_ just said you were gonna show us the updated profit reports.”

Well. Okay, that might explain the overly distressed and confused looks that everyone is giving him. If he keeps this up he’s gonna get fired just for acting batshit crazy. 

“Right!” Bucky shakes his head like he’s getting his brain back in place. “Sorry, I just… bit of a headache, that’s all.”

Quickly sending them all the reports they need to review, Bucky makes it a point to stay very focused the rest of the time. This is still his job after all and, damn it, he’s good at it. Once he sets his mind to it, Bucky slowly eases back into his role. 

The meeting goes smoothly after that. The transition with Panther Inc. has been going on almost without a hitch. A few hiccups here and there, but that’s to be expected. Bucky goes over weekly reviews and dips in the market and companies they need to be watching out for. There’re new trends surfacing that have him excited, too, that he’s sure to bring up. All this and he hasn’t even been around for nearly two weeks. 

Hell, he really is pretty good, isn’t he? Maybe he can still be a runner for Forbes’ Man of the Year after all. So when Bucky’s phone buzzes on the table while he’s in the middle of giving them a few more statistics on what they should expect for the new year, he simply reaches to silence it. Until he happens to catch the name flashing across the screen. 

Bucky snatches it up and almost answers it right there in the middle of the meeting. Right there in front of everyone. 

“I…” He looks back at his phone. Sees Steve’s names lighting it up. Bucky’s already backing out of the room even though everyone is watching him. “Excuse me, I have to take this. Hello?”

“Bucky?” 

Boss or not, Bucky finds himself hushing his voice and hurrying back to his office to speak privately. No one’s ever seen him involved in a personal matter and he’s not going to let them now.

“Just…” He sort of waves to the mail clerk as they go by one another. Awkward. Bucky’s not sure if they’ve ever even made eye contact before. “Just one second.” The second Bucky finds himself in the safety and privacy of his office, he can’t hold back any longer. “Hey!” 

Unable to keep the excitement out of his voice, Bucky ends up sounding like a little kid. Still by his door, he leans up against it and knocks his head back. On the other end of the phone, Steve snickers. 

“Hello, Bucky,” he greets. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Uh.” Bucky pushes away from the door now and goes to pour himself a glass of water. “N-well… I was in a meeting, but it’s no big deal.” 

“Oh, shit.” Steve sounds genuinely shocked by this. “I’m sorry, I completely didn’t think of the time difference. I can call back later if you--”

“No, no! No, please, I can talk now, I swear, it’s fine.” 

“I…” He chuckles again. “I mean if you’re sure.”

Bucky assures him that it’s perfectly okay and then goes to sit down on one of his chairs, but ends up pacing anyway. Steve’s called him. He’s really called him. 

“So,” he says. “How’s Paris? You like it?”

“Oh. I mean, you’ve been here, right? So, you know.” Steve clears his throat and then sighs. “Oh my god, Bucky, it’s _amazing_. I can see the Eiffel Tower from my flat, can you _believe_ that? I swear, I was barely off the plane and I was buying tickets for the Louvre, it was the most incredible place I’ve ever _seen_. I don’t know how they expect me to work here when there’s so much to do, I just…”

He trails off there with a little embarrassed groan. Bucky chuckles. Steve said all of that in pretty much one breath. It’s adorable, really.

“That’s great, Steve.” Bucky recommends a little cafe he loves. “They’ve got amazing coffee. You’ll love it.” 

“Well, I’ll just have to check it out.”

“If you want the best coffee in the city,” Bucky teases. “You said you’re by the Eiffel Tower?”

“I can see if from the balcony,” Steve says. “It’s so beautiful. All lit up at night. I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

“It’s something, huh? Better than you imagined?”

“Oh yeah. I never _dreamed_ I’d be here. Now I’m here and I can _see_ it from my balcony!”

The excitement in Steve’s voice is just too cute. The only thing that would make this better would be if Bucky could actually see his face. All lit up with that big, cheesy smile. Eyes sparkling. Ugh, what he wouldn’t do to be there and experience all this with him. 

“What’s it like?” Bucky asks. “Up top?”

“Mm.” Sounds like Steve’s taken a drink of something. “I didn’t go up. I’m waiting for--” 

He cuts himself off there, literally snapping his mouth closed. Bucky, too, freezes. Steve’d started saying it so casually. An offhand comment like it was just an everyday thing when it’s anything but. They both know it. 

Does Steve mean what Bucky thinks he does? If it’s what Bucky thinks it is, then Steve is waiting for _him_ to climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower. The thought of it leaves Bucky speechless. 

Sure, _Bucky’s_ never gone to the top. Going up there without Steve just felt wrong. In so many ways. 

But he'd understand if Steve didn't return the sentiment. In fact, it would make perfect sense. Steve could go up there just to spite Bucky and Bucky would understand.

“Steve--”

“So, what’s it like there without me?” Steve asks. Changes the subject quickly without bringing attention to it. “Has America changed much?” 

As much as Bucky would like to address Steve’s very obvious slip of the tongue there, it wouldn’t be right of him. 

“Yes. We had a parade to celebrate the new national holiday now that we’re rid of you.” 

Steve snorts. “Watch it, Mister, you're still on thin ice.”

He says this playful enough to make Bucky smile. 

“Any country is lucky to have you in it.”

There's a pause. Then it sounds like Steve chuckles but Bucky isn't positive. 

“Are you trying to suck up to me?”

“Yes,” Bucky says. “Is it working?”

“No. You're the jerk who broke my heart.”

Bucky’s stomach flips, twists, and then drops to his feet. Blood draining from his face, he could only look down at his feet for a moment or two, not saying anything. How could he? It isn’t like he has an appropriate response to that. 

“You still there?” Steve asks after a minute. “Or did I lose you?”

“N-no.” Bucky cleared his throat. “I’m still here.” 

“Ah. Did I hurt your feelings?”

“I… it’s just… I mean…”

“You’re _so_ not off the hook, Bucky Barnes,” Steve says. “Just keep that in mind.”

A lump, hard and sharp and big, lodges itself in Bucky’s throat. Makes it hard to breathe. Hard to swallow. He wants to apologize. Wishes words of apology would somehow make this better. If only there was some way to make Steve see how horribly he felt about everything he’d done. Bucky would gladly do whatever he needed to prove it. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing other than continuing on the road he’s stepped on and hoping that Steve allows it. 

“I know,” Bucky murmurs. His voice cracks, splinters of it falling into his belly. “I know, Steve, I…”

“Well, I guess I should go--”

“No, wait!” No, he can’t. Bucky can’t let this be the end of their conversation. He just can’t. “Please, don’t go yet. How’s… how’s the weather been there?”

Bucky cringes at himself. The weather? Really? But after a few seconds, Steve snickers and comes back with an answer. 

“Same as there, I suspect. Cold. A bit rainy, actually. It’s supposed to snow tonight.” 

That, believe it or not, does the trick. One question about the weather leads into three hours of conversation. And it might’ve ended only because Steve started yawning and answering every few questions with _mhm_ , even when it made no sense. Bucky laughed and told him to go to bed and was thrilled when Steve said, “no, no, I’m fine.” 

“Go to bed, punk,” Bucky chuckles. “We can talk tomorrow.” He hesitates and then adds, “Uh, y’know, if… that’s something you want. I mean, _I_ want it… um… I, uh, no pressure or anything of course--”

“Bucky, shut up.” Bucky snaps mouth closed. Steve laughs. “I’ll give you a ring when I’m not busy, kay?”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah. Okay. I, uh…” Not love you. No, that would be bad. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Mhm.” Steve clears his throat. “Right.” There’s a smile in his voice. “I’ll call you in a few days.” 

The phone goes dead then and the world begins to reshape itself around Bucky. His office is dim and quiet and still. Bucky clicks the light on by his desk. It’s only then that he realizes just how late it really is. Most of the office has already left for the night. 

“So? How’d it go?”

Bucky spins around to find Darcy standing in his door. He shakes his head. Looks at the phone in his hand.

“Darcy?” He just blinks. “What’re you still doing here?”

“Waiting for all the juicy details of course.” She rolls her eyes as though that should be obvious and then helps herself to the chair he’s just vacated. “Now, c’mon! Out with it! Tell me!”

“Tell you what?”

She sighs and drops her head back. “How’d the phone call go? He finally called right? That’s what you’ve been waiting for all this time, so how was it?”

“How…” Bucky shakes his head. “How’d you even _know_?”

“Ms. Potts gave me a message.” She pulls a message sheet out of her pocket. “She said that you should take all the time you need; you’ve earned it. And _Mr. Stark_ said ‘go get ‘im, kid’.” Darcy shrugs a shoulder. “I put two and two together.”

Bucky groans. “I’m not going into this with you. Go home, Darcy.”

She clicks her tongue with disappointment and threatens to never give him advice with his love life again. To which he calls her a liar and she laughs as they ride the elevator down to the lobby together. 

“Okay, I think,” Bucky says just before they part. 

“What?”

“I said: Okay.” He shrugs. “He’s still really mad at me, but I expected that. But I think… I think it also went kind of okay.” 

Darcy grins and gives him a cute nudge with her shoulder. 

“Okay is good,” she tells him. “You can work with okay and go from there. That’s a good sign. Night, Boss.” 

“Goodnight, Darcy.”

As promised, Steve does call him again. This time, he doesn’t make Bucky wait as long. Three days. That’s all. 

After that, their phone calls become more regular. Steve is even okay when Bucky calls him every now and then. Not that he always answers, but there’s a time or two that he calls back within moments with a _sorry, I missed you, what’s up_? It never fails to make Bucky smile. 

Within a few weeks, the contact is daily. Phone calls. Texts. Even emails. Bucky loves it when he opens his mail and sees one from SRogers@gmail.com. It’s usually some ridiculous joke or something horribly filthy that shouldn’t be sent via text because the years have done nothing to mature Steve’s dirty mind, but he does, at least, do Bucky the favor of emailing those things. 

In March, Bucky receives a surprise package. It’s filled with French tourist things. A little model of the Eiffel Tower. A mini French flag. A Mona Lisa magnet. Instant coffee from the cafe Bucky told him about. With it all, a birthday card. 

Bucky is so touched by the birthday gift, that he packs up some New York tourist things in return and sends them Steve’s way. A little Statue of Liberty. An I heart NY shirt. Skyline magnets. A Yankee hat. To which he got an angry phone call. Sort of.

“What the hell, Bucky?!”

“What?” Bucky, honestly confused, asked. “What’d I do?”

“Why did you send me all of this?”

“I… you sent me something!”

Steve snorted. “For your birthday!”

“Okay, so… this was a just… _because_ package.”

Bucky could practically _hear_ Steve roll his eyes. He threatened to send everything back to Bucky since he didn’t think it was fair to have it when there wasn’t a real reason for it. Bucky swore if he did, it would either end up _back_ in France within a few days -- “expedited shipping, Steve” -- or just in the corner gathering dust until Bucky could find another way to give it to him. Steve grumbled and begrudgingly gave in. Thanked Bucky. There was a smile in his voice. 

By the time the easy, warm days of spring are replaced by lazier, hot days of summer, Bucky’s comfortable again with teasing Steve and poking fun at him. What’s even better is the fact Steve gives it right back to him. Playful remarks and witty banter that go well into the night for both of them. 

Some of Bucky’s favorite nights have been when Steve’s fallen asleep on the other end of the phone. Even better are the mornings when _he_ wakes up and finds Steve waiting for him. 

Steve, more than once, has called Bucky after a bad day. Not at first, Bucky knows that, but the more they’ve talked, the closer they’ve gotten again, the more open with Bucky Steve’s been. 

Like tonight, after a particularly hard day at work, Steve had texted Bucky to actually _set up_ a time to make sure he wouldn’t be busy. Bucky made sure to push back meetings and be home and free so that Steve had his undivided attention. 

“I can’t do this, Buck,” Steve’s saying. It’s been a rough few weeks. “All I want to do is _help_ people and I feel like I’m not doing _anything_. Maybe I should just give up and come home.”

“Hey, come on,” Bucky says to him. “That’s not the Steve Rogers I know. It’s never been. My Stevie doesn’t know how to quit.”

“ _Your_ Stevie?”

Bucky pauses. “Yeah. The Steve who’s mine. He doesn’t quit.”

There’s silence for a moment or two. Then, “You really think I can get through this?”

“Of course I do. You always do.”

Steve chuckles and sighs and it sounds like he collapses down on whatever piece of furniture he’s on. A couch, maybe.

“Thank you, Bucky. Bucky?”

“Yeah, Steve?”

“That stuff you said to me, that day in the airport?”

Glands swelling, Bucky finds his throat dry and head spinning. He isn’t exactly prepared to answer any questions about this. 

“Yeah?”

“Where’d… all that come from? I mean… why’d you say all that? Was it just to--”

“I don’t know, Steve.” Bucky really isn’t sure how to answer any of that. “All I really know is that I went to bed the night before and when I woke up, you weren’t next to me, and I felt like I lost an entire life I never knew I could want. One I could want more than the one I already had.” 

“A family?” Steve asks. “We had a… family?”

Tears burn in Bucky’s eyes. It’s strange, remembering something that wasn’t exactly real. When he tries hard to think about the glimpse, it’s like trying to remember a dream he _knows_ he had, but can’t recall clearly enough to describe. Just wisps of memories. 

“Yeah,” Bucky whispers. “A good one.” 

“Bucky, I…” Steve coughs and there’s a sudden change in his voice. “Bucky, I have to go.”

“Go? Steve, are you all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The call ends abruptly and Bucky’s very tempted to call back or even text just to make sure that Steve really _is_ okay. He didn’t sound it, but then, Bucky knows he needs to respect Steve’s boundaries. It’s only been seven months since they’ve started talking again and although it sometimes feels like they’ve never spent a day apart -- not even those eleven years -- that’s not the truth. 

Maybe the _my Stevie_ thing was just too much for him. Maybe it was talking about them having a theoretical family, even if it _was_ Steve who asked about them. Still, Steve said they’d talk tomorrow. That was a pretty good sign. He hoped, anyway.

The thought weighs heavy on him the following day. All day. He hears nothing from Steve. No text, no emails. Nothing. Not even a response to Bucky when he gives it a shot. The radio silence is enough to drive him mad. 

Rain pours from the dark gray skies, water puddling in massive puddles on the old and worn New York Streets. Thunder rumbles across the clouds. Lightning flashes in quick, frightening bolts. Unseasonable thunderstorms just to mock Bucky’s somber mood. 

Terrified he’s done something wrong or that Steve’s finally come to the conclusion that he just can’t forgive him, Bucky can barely concentrate. He tries to throw himself into work. Which does help for a little while. There is a staff meeting that he needs to head. The mid-year reports have finally come in and they need to go through them. 

So when Darcy interrupts Bucky in the middle of the meeting, Bucky really can’t imagine why.

“There’s someone here to see you, Mr. Barnes,” she says. Which is unusual since even in front of other employees she never calls him Mr. Barnes. 

“To see me?” he asks. “I have no appointments scheduled for today, do I?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “But there’s someone here.”

“Darcy, I really don’t have time for this,” Bucky tells her. “Tell them to make an appoint--”

“I don’t think you’ll want to reschedule this one.”

Eyebrows pulling in, Bucky sighs and excuses himself from the meeting, not before pulling up some reports for them to go over in his, “I’ll be right back,” absence.

“I dunno about that, Boss,” Darcy says as they walk towards his office. “You might be a while.” 

“Wait, where is this person?”

“In your office.”

“My _office_?” Bucky exclaims. “You let some stranger I’m not even expecting into my _office_?”

Darcy gives him a light chuckles. “Somehow, I doubt you’ll mind.” 

Considering -- but not really because where would he be without her -- firing his assistant, Bucky hurries to get to there. He pushes his doors open, ready to, well, he isn’t sure since he has no clue what to expect, but it’s definitely not what he finds. 

Because what he finds is Steve Rogers. A sopping wet, dripping water into Bucky’s freshly laid carpet, Steve Rogers. An out of breath, shivering in the air-conditioning, Steve Rogers. A seething, very angry, ready to scream, Steve Rogers. 

“Told you, you didn’t wanna reschedule,” Darcy murmurs behind Bucky.

“Shut up, Darcy,” Bucky mumbles under his breath. He shoos her away. “Close the door behind you. Please. And thank you, Darcy.” 

No one says anything. Steve just goes on standing there, dripping, out of breath, shivering, and seething. Bucky is too shocked to do anything. He should. Steve is wet and cold. 

“H-hi…” he says. “What’re you… I mean, you want a…” Bucky shakes his head and grabs one of the blankets out of his closet. “Steve, you’re soaked. And freezing. Are you okay? Here.”

Steve doesn’t take it. Instead, he just keeps standing there. Dripping, out of breath, shivering, and seething. 

“I _hate_ you.” 

Blanket still outstretched, Bucky’s arm lowers. His heart falls with it. Steve’s voice is so mad, so _angry_ , it pierces through Bucky’s gut like a dagger. 

“Why?” He can’t muster up any strength to his own voice. “What’d I do?”

Steve snatches the blanket from Bucky’s hand now and flings it to the floor. 

“You know why!” he shouts. “You know _exactly_ why!” Steve points a shaky finger at him. “I was getting along just _fine_. I moved _on_ from you, damn it! I _did_ , I _swear_ I did. And then you just show up with this _incredible_ story and I’m supposed to what? Just drop everything and try to live that life?”

“No,” Bucky says, and it comes out as an odd whimper. “No, Steve, I didn’t mean--”

“Did you know that I _can’t_ go out on a date?” he says. “I’ve tried, believe me. In the seven months, I’ve been in Paris, I’ve _been_ asked out and I’ve _asked_ people out, but I haven’t been able to follow through. Ask me why. Go ahead. Ask.”

Bucky, afraid to ask, but taking in a deep breath to do so anyway, cringes before he does. 

“Why can’t you follow through?”

“Because _all_ I picture it _that_!”

A finger comes flying at Bucky’s face. He has no idea what Steve is talking about. Bucky looks around, trying to figure out what it is he’s done wrong. 

“I don’t know what--”

“All I can picture is that damn wounded puppy look of yours,” Steve clarifies. “And it feels like I’m cheating on this most amazing husband that I don’t even _have_. I don’t even have a boyfriend! We’re _just_ becoming friends again and yet I feel like I’m gonna break your heart and I just can’t _do_ it, but I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m not! Tell me it’s okay to date! Say it!”

“It… it’s okay for you to date?”

Steve damn near growls and tugs at his wet hair. “Not like that! Say it like you mean it!”

“You… you _can_ date, Steve.” Even if the thought leaves a hole in Bucky’s chest. “You’re allowed. I can’t stop you.” 

“No, see, that doesn’t help!” Steve huffs and crosses the room, leaving wet footprints on the carpet. He looks to just hold back from kicking the couch. “You’re still giving me that look. And it’s not _fair_.”

There’s almost a whine in the back of his throat. If Bucky wasn’t ready to fall to his knees and beg for Steve’s forgiveness, he’d laugh. 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” he murmurs. “It’s just… I… I love you.” 

Steve wipes water away from his face. Tears, maybe, too. He shakes his head and backs up, putting more space between him and Bucky.

“That’s even more unfair.” 

Lowering his head, Bucky nods. “I know. I’m sorry. We don’t have to… keep talking, if you don’t… want to.” 

“No, see,” Steve grumbles, “that’s just it. I don’t want _that_ either. I don’t want you out of my life, Bucky, but I… I don’t know how I feel. I’m just…” His voice breaks and he sounds really exhausted. “I don’t know what to think, I’m confused.” 

“Steve,” Bucky whispers. He crosses the room, slowly, and slips a hand over his shoulder. There’s tension there at first, but after just a few seconds, it loosens and Steve leans into Bucky’s embrace. “Steve, I’m so sorry. Please, just tell me what you want me to do. How can I make this better? I’ll do whatever I can to make this right. _Anything_ , I swear.” 

Steve, and Bucky simply cannot believe this, wraps his arm around Bucky’s waist like he needs to hold him close. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “Sometimes I think I just shouldn’t ever talk to you again. And when I think of never talking to you again it just… it _hurts_. It hurts. I don’t want to not talk to you. Ugh, but I hate you still and yet I want to _be_ with you. I want to ask you to come back to Paris with me and stay with me and I know that’s crazy.” Did… Did Steve just say… “But you have your job and your life is here and--”

“Yes, I’ll do that.”

“--why would I even _want_ to be with you after what you did. I should be making you crawl on hands and knees, but instead, I’m inviting you to live with me in Paris? It’s completely absurd. What is wrong with--”

“Steve!”

Lifting his head away from Bucky’s shoulder, Steve looks at him as though surprised by Bucky raising his voice.

“What?”

“Yes. If that’s what you really want. I’ll go with you.”

“You… you’ll what?” Steve shakes his head. A cautious smile lifts on his lips. “But your job?”

“I can work from Paris,” Bucky says. “And if I can’t, I’ll get a new job.”

Steve scoffs. “You work for Stark Industries. It doesn’t get much better than that.”

“You don’t understand. I already picked the job over you and it was the biggest mistake of my life. I’m not going to make it again.”

Just staring at him for a moment, Steve pushes his hair away from his brow and then breathes out in disbelief.

“No. You wouldn’t just give up everything you’ve worked for for the past eleven years just for me.”

“Why not?” Bucky shrugs. “You’re worth more than that. I was just too stupid to see it then. I’m not so stupid anymore. I’ll go to Paris with you tomorrow. Today, if you want. Hell, yesterday if I could. I’ll move to Mars with you, Steve. I just want to _be_ with you. In any way you’ll allow.” 

Moving away from him again, Steve just holds a finger up everytime Bucky goes to say something. Even going so far as telling him to shut up, that he’s trying to think. 

“You’d move to Paris with me, today?” Steve asks a few minutes later. “You’d just come to an airport with me, right now, and move to Paris?”

“Yes.” Bucky nods. “Yes, Steve. I love you. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that. I understand if that’s too soon for me to say, I just need you to know that. I’ve never _stopped_ loving you. I was just too self-involved to realize it.” 

A hand comes close to Bucky’s. Steve slowly reaching for his. Their fingers intertwine. Eyes closed, he kisses Bucky’s knuckles. 

“Come with me?” he whispers. “Please? But… but only if you can keep your job. You love your job, Bucky, you worked hard for it. I don’t want you to lose it.”

“I’d rather lose it than you.” 

Eyes filling with enough tears that they finally start to spill over and slip down his cheeks, Steve shakes his head. He fixes a soft hand to Bucky’s cheek.

“You’re not gonna lose me, Bucky.” He moves slowly, slower than he has this whole time, and presses his brow against Bucky’s. “I choose us.”

Sucking in a jagged breath, Bucky, still as he can be in Steve gentle hold, says on the exhale, “To the end of the line.” 

***

Paris.

A city of love and romance and all those movie cliches that Bucky used to use for his own simple benefit of a good time. It’s different now. Being here with Steve makes the whole city shine with fantasy and dreams and happily-ever-afters. 

It only took a month for Bucky to get everything organized for the move. Tony had been quite accepting of his request to move across the pond. Pepper had been positively thrilled for him. Darcy cried her last day. They still talk. She hasn’t changed a bit. 

Not that Bucky’s expected her to change in the two weeks he’s been here, but it’s nice to know that she’s still just as snarky and sassy as always. 

Coming here with Steve, so far, has been the best decision Bucky’s ever made. There’re nerves, of course. Moments of awkward silences. A few attempts at affection that maybe they’re not ready for. But there’s also been laughter and smiles and hand-holding. Foot rubs, for Steve. Back rubs, for Steve. Hand rubs, for Steve. A few wounded puppy looks from Bucky when necessary. 

They’ve gone out to dinner and Bucky’s met him a few times for lunch. Since it’s still nice out, Steve like to walk through parks and sketch while there. Bucky is more than content to just sit and watch. Steve is happy to sit and talk when inspiration doesn’t strike. 

Both Bucky and Steve have decided it might not be best to actually live together. Instead, Bucky’s gotten himself a flat in the same building.

“Could you be any closer?” Steve asked when Bucky told him.

Bucky blushed. “I can move if you want. If that makes you--”

“No, no.” Steve jostled him. “It’s fine. Lighten up, Barnes.”

“You’re not gonna make this easy for me, are you?”

Steve smirked. “No. I’m not. But I think you’re okay with that.” 

Since Steve was usually okay with it, and it proved to be okay again that day, Bucky rested his head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m okay with it.” 

Most of Bucky’s two weeks here have been spent unpacking and trying to get things set up with work. Not as easy a task as it should be. Wires to connect and apps to get working. Things on the New York end that aren’t going the way. Very irritating. 

“Oh, c’mon!” Bucky grunts when his video chat craps out for the third time in the hour. “You piece of…”

He’s in the middle of trying to get it working again so he can get back to this meeting when there’s a knock on the door. It’s already after eight o’clock -- two o’clock New York time. Bucky sighs, giving up on this and texting Bruce and telling he’ll just get back to them in the morning and that the reports are in his email, and goes to see who’s at the door. 

Much to Bucky’s delight, it’s Steve. 

“Hey!” He pulls the door open. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

He really wasn’t. Last he heard, Steve had a late night at work. He was gonna be at the office until, according to him, “the butt crack of dawn.” Bucky had a feeling he was exaggerating, but he didn’t realize it was this much.

“I know,” he says. “I expected to be stuck there all night but we ended up finishing so I thought, um, I thought maybe we could do something. If you’re not busy.” 

“Sure!” Bucky cleared his throat, although nothing he could do would take that embarrassing squeak away. “You wanna grab some dinner?”

“Actually,” Steve replies, “I… had something else in mind.”

“Okay. Just gimme a minute to get dressed, okay?”

Steve nods and tells him to take his time. Bucky invites him in, apologizes for the mess, and tells him to make himself comfortable. He offers him a drink, which Steve does take--a nice glass of Chardonnay. Of course, so many of Bucky’s clothes are still in boxes. No matter what it is that Steve wants to do, Bucky would like to look nice for him. 

Fortunately, it doesn’t take him all that long to get ready. This doesn’t mean Bucky hasn’t changed into and out of several outfits before settling on one. He keeps it simple though. Just a blue button-down that he keeps untucked and black sacks. No tie. Steve is even still working on his glass of wine when he comes back out.

“Ready?”

Steve nods and polishes off the drink. “Sure.”

As soon as Bucky realizes where they’re going, he can’t believe he didn’t figure it out as soon as Steve asked if he wanted to go out. 

“You ready for this?” Bucky asks as they both look up. “Today’s the day?”

“I’ve been waiting my whole life to do this,” he says. “And I’m finally with the person I’ve wanted to do it with.”

Warmth rivers through Bucky as Steve slips his hand with his. Fingers locked together, Bucky looks over to find Steve already smiling at him. A few tears gather in Bucky’s eyes. 

“Steve…” Bucky whispers.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “C’mere.” 

He places a hand at the back of Bucky’s head and gently coaxes him closer. Bucky nearly gasps just before their lips meet. He can hardly believe it. So much that he barely even realizes that he should kiss back. Because Steve is kissing him. _Kissing_ him. For the first time in eleven years. 

It’s soft and it’s slow, and maybe just a little bit guarded, but they’re kissing. With Steve’s hands gingerly at Bucky’s face and Bucky’s at Steve’s waist. Bucky could just float away. 

When Steve moves away, he must notice the dreamy, and probably spacey, grin on Bucky’s face. He laughs. Adds one last peck. 

“You’ve really never gone up there before?” he asks. 

“No.” Bucky shakes his head. “I was never with the person I wanted to go with either.”

Steve’s eyes light up. “Damn it, Barnes. You’re making it really difficult to keep being hard on you.” 

“Oh.” Bucky chuckles. “Well. You’re Steve Rogers. You’re evil. I’m sure you’ll find ways.”

“ _And_ you just made it easy again.”

Bucky laughs. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Scoffing, Steve rolls his eyes and takes hold of Bucky’s hand again. He gives it a good squeeze.

“Come on, Bucky. Let’s do this.”

And so they do. For the first time ever, after all his trips to Paris, Bucky Barnes finally climbs up the Eiffel Tower. Because he’s with Steve Rogers, the only one he’d ever do it with. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! hope you had as much fun as Bucky and Steve! look me up on tumblr for more marvel fun at [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com/)!


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